Maggie-

I feel my consciousness slowly begin to wake but my eyes don't open.  Heavy weights pull down their lids and they remain shut tight.  Rather than attempting to pry them open, I lie still and listen to my surroundings.

The sound of my breathing is accompanied by a quiet clicking and it only takes me a moment to recognize the rhythmic beating as a clock. Despite finding myself temporarily blind, the soft ticking relaxes me, I've always loved the peaceful sound of a soft ticking clock. I time my shallow breaths with the steady beats and attempt to stay calm. I take a deep breath allowing air to fill every crevice of my lungs and hold it for a few seconds before exhaling.

The muffled sound of ticking continues as my ears begin to pick up another sound, a very hushed buzzing of electronics. The unusual noise catches my attention and I feel my brows furrow as I struggle to distinguish it. No matter how hard I try to place the sound, it remains unfamiliar.

What I'm assuming is sunlight begins to penetrate my eyelids and warmth blankets my skin. I instinctively squeeze my eyes tighter shut and attempt to move my arm to cover them, but my arms are like dead weights. I feel as if I've lost all of my muscle mass or maybe I've just been hit with a tranquilizer dart.

Panic surges through me as I realize I'm paralyzed, I was able to cope with my lazy eyelids but for every muscle to suddenly be out of order terrifies me. The calm sound of ticking begins amplifying as my heart starts to race. I can't move, speak or even open my eyes.

I concentrate my breathing in an attempt to calm myself. Panicking won't help me rediscover how to move and depending on what condition I find myself in, I'm not sure if my heart can take the stress.

Determined to obtain control over my body, I decide to start with one finger at a time. I focus my mind on my pointer finger, attempting the slightest wiggle. At first, the muscle won't budge but with enough concentration, I'm finally able to lift my finger about an inch before it falls again. The slightest movement is cause for celebration and although I feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins, I know I've got a long way to go.

I can do this.

I concentrate for at least an hour on my fingers until I'm finally able to wiggle each digit individually. The clicking of the clock which was originally calming starts to drive me crazy, it's a reminder of every second that's passed without so much as opening my eyes. After a few hours I'm exhausted but still determined, so I attempt to move my arms but they're like dead weights.

The sun beats on my face the entire time, warming my skin until I begin to perspire.  It feels as if the sun is angry with me, threatening to blind me with its brightest light shining straight through my eyelids.

After a few minutes of desperately attempting to open my eyes, I'm finally able to pry them open. My sight is blurry but I focus on the large black and white clock hanging directly in front of me. I concentrate on the movement of the small hand until it appears in focus.

Twelve, One, Two, Three, Four.

The numbers are clearly visible yet the hands are small enough where I can't manage to tell the time. The torturous ticking continues, reminding me of every second passing. I move my eyes slowly around the walls to examine the room hoping to get a glimpse of where I am.

The bleach-white walls are filled with posters and charts and as I examine them I realize they're the usual signs doctors have plastered everywhere. It isn't until my gaze travels towards the machines next to my bed that I realize, I'm in a hospital. My eyes close once more and I take another deep breath, hoping I'll be able to keep my anxiety in check.

Why am I here?

My eyes roam further below the monitors and I follow the wires which loop around the bed and plug into my arms. A sick feeling fills my stomach and throat as I immediately stare back at the ceiling.  I'm afraid I'll pass out if I examine where all of these tubes and wires are sticking into my skin.

I've always been afraid of needles and I usually just about pass out when getting a shot or my blood drawn.  The idea of having wires and tubes sticking out of god knows where, drooping and looping around this hospital bed makes me sick. Tears begin to well up in my eyes and with a simple blink, a few are let loose, making their way down my cheek and dripping off my chin.

The longer I'm awake the more the world becomes clear and my mind begins to focus back on reality. I feel my stomach drop and my chest begins to ache as I wonder what happened to me. I'm unsure of the day, week, hour, or year.  I can't recall what put me here and I have no clue the place I was last.

After a few deep breaths and a bout of self-pity, I find my mind clearing and decide I need to get help. I have to find answers. Why am I here? What happened? Where is my mom? I realize the last question makes me seem like a child and god knows my mother is little to no comfort, but after waking up here seemingly alone, I just want my mother.

My eyes begin to wander the room and I chance looking down towards my bed again careful to avoid seeing the many tubes attached to my arms. Suddenly my eyes land on something I missed, something seemingly important, or someone rather. 

A man sitting beside me lays with his head on my bed, clutching a book directly beside my knees.  He's fast asleep, his face peaceful, childlike even. His long chocolate-colored hair lies in a perfect mess on the top of his head but looks feather-soft.  In the weirdest way, I find myself wishing I could thread my fingers through it. His full lips are a faint pink and despite the piercing on his lower lip, he's sort of- well, beautiful. 

I wish I could wake him and possibly get answers but my throat feels like sandpaper and since it took me hours to simply open my eyes, who knows how long until I'm able to speak.  Instead, I just continue to examine the man lying before me.

My brows furrow as I concentrate on the title of the book he's holding. It doesn't take me long to recognize the oh so familiar title, Twilight.  Odd, his arm is planted firmly on my bed, clutching one of my oldest guilty pleasures.  My eyes trail further down and I notice random ink drawings covering his skin. Tattoos. I wrinkle my nose, displeased.

Who is this man?

The hospital door opens abruptly, stopping my possibly intrusive staring and a doctor walks in holding a clipboard.  The man I was just examining sits up immediately, stretching and making odd sounds as if he's in pain for sleeping in such an awkward position.  He barely looks my way before he turns to greet the doctor who just entered the room.

The man's breath catches and before I can register his shocked facial expression his eyes have returned to mine.  A look of shock and awe blankets his face and his eyelids widen to twice their size. I finally get a good look at his entire face, and since I haven't found my voice quite yet, I simply remain still and meet his gaze.

Although surrounded by shadows, his eyes are a piercing blue and as they reflect in the morning sunlight they gleam back at me like diamonds.

He's sort of beautiful.

"Maggie?" He barely manages to squeak out, obviously still in shock.

How does he know my name?

I glance back to the doctor in confusion and attempt to clear my throat but it's incredibly dry. It feels as if my throat is filled with every ounce of desert sand in Arizona and it painfully rips at my throat as I attempt to clear it.

"Maggie, you're awake?" The man shouts in disbelief. 

The sudden loud noise hurts my ears so I squint my eyes attempting to lessen the pain before he jumps up and wraps his arms around my sore shoulders. I'm startled by the sudden show of affection from this man I've never met before, but I hate to hurt anyone's feelings, let alone this beautiful boy's, so I sit patiently and allow him to hug me. 

My eyes search the doctors in confusion and her brows begin to pull together with a mixture of realization and then, sadness. 

"Good morning Maggie, I'm glad you're back with us.  I'm Dr. Helen Moore and I've been watching over you as you slept." She says before coming to my side and placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. The man pulls back to examine me as the doctor speaks.

"Do you remember what happened honey?" Dr. Moore asks and I attempt to shake my head no but the muscles don't appear to be working.

Where is my mom? I try my best to ask but it comes out more like a croak, "Where?"

"You're at the Mayo Clinic, it's a prestigious hospital in Scottsdale.  You're in good hands." The doctor answers with a warm smile despite the fact that it's not what I wanted to know.

"You were in a car accident Maggie, do you remember anything about that night?" My eyes wander to the diamond eyes desperately searching mine and I attempt to shake my head no again, this time semi-successfully.

The doctors nods as she pulls a stool closer and sits beside me. The diamond eyed boy brings his hand to my face and gently begins rubbing my cheek with his thumb. His soft warm touch sends a wave of calm through me and I naturally lean into his touch as if it's completely normal to have a stranger rub my face.

Who are you? I wonder as I meet his gaze.

"Maggie, I'm going to need to ask you a few questions and it may be best if you step out Jackson." The doctor cautions as she glances toward the diamond eyed boy.

Jackson.

"No way in hell. I just got her back I'm not leaving now." Jackson says aggressively and my brows crinkle in response. What does he mean?

"Alright, but you need to remain calm because you might not get answers your looking for." Dr. Moore warns him but shortly after concentrates on me. "I know it's difficult to speak Maggie, but can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"Water?" I manage to ask in a gravely voice.

"Not yet Maggie, I don't want you to choke." Dr. Moore answers and I attempt to lube my throat by swallowing a few times in a row.

I close my eyes and wrinkle my brows once more, attempting to remember anything at all. How am I supposed to know which memory was my last? Everything seems like it blurs together.

"Let's start with something easier." She offers. "Your name is Margaret Carpenter, correct?"

That one's simple enough to answer. I attempt another nod and luckily my strength is slowly returning so I'm physically able to move my head.

"Good. Your mother, do you remember her?" I nod in response and earn another good. I feel both of their eyes trained on me, but I keep my eyes closed. I'd rather not watch for their disappointment if I get one of their questions wrong.

"Do you remember your father?" She starts but Jackson hushes her.

"I don't think that's as simple of a question as you think." He answers and my eyes flutter open to meet his. Why is it not simple?

"He passed away." I manage to croak. The dry sandpaper feeling scrapes my throat as words leave my mouth and I swallow three times desperate for water.

Jackson's face falls and a look I can't quite place takes over his features before his hand moves to comb through his chocolate-colored hair. His knee begins to bob up and down and a sudden look of fear takes hold in his eyes.

"Do you know who I am?" Jackson asks desperately, taking my hands in his.

I meet his penetrating gaze and stare deep into his diamond eyes, searching for any memory of this man pleading before me. My heart wrenches and I can't quite place why, but sadness overwhelms me. I'm suddenly so worried about hurting this man, despite the fact that I have absolutely no recollection of him what so ever.

"Maggie, please-" He begs but his throat catches before he can finish speaking.

My throat closes as tears begin to well up in my eyes and I look down at our intertwined hands before nodding a shy no.  A few seconds pass and the tick of the annoyingly loud clock is the only sound penetrating my ears until Jackson drops my hands.  He stands abruptly, then simply leaves the room. 

I can't possibly explain why, but the feeling of losing someone important overwhelms me and a few tears manage to make their way down my cheeks, dripping off my chin and soak into my hospital gown.  I look to my doctor, desperate for guidance. What happened to me?

"Maggie honey it's okay. Memory loss is somewhat common when you've had a traumatic head injury, especially for those just coming out of a coma. It's also not always permanent."

My eyes move back to the door and I wait for the man with the diamond eyes to walk back inside but he never does. I feel Dr. Moore's hand gently grip mine, asking for my attention once again.

"I think you need a little more rest, it will take time and some physical therapy before you're able to fully function again." Dr. Moore pauses and allows a warm smile. "I'll have nurse Betty come check up on you in a few minutes, okay?"

I quickly nod and I know she's right because the adrenaline that was coursing through me begins to fade and my eyelids feel like they're being tugged on with weights.  My tired eyes travel back to the door as I wait for the diamond eyed boy to come back to me. Will he even come back?

"I'll speak with him, Maggie. Just rest and we'll check in with you soon." Dr. Moore's voice echoes in my mind and I attempt a nod but before I manage sleep overcomes me again.